


Ultimately I don't understand a thing, I try to do the best I can, I know you try to do the same

by genderenvy



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, its just straight up angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderenvy/pseuds/genderenvy
Summary: Barney Calhoun spends another night thinking about his dead boyfriend.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Ultimately I don't understand a thing, I try to do the best I can, I know you try to do the same

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like 2 hours and its not beta read but I just wanted to get this out or otherwise I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it  
> Oh yeah and the title is just the first 3 lines from Ultimately by Khai Dreams cause I felt they fitting enough

Barney sighs, the heavy kevlar of his Civil Protection vest sliding down, off his shoulders. He knows that, come tomorrow, he’ll have to put that vest, his mask, back on. But for now he lets himself feel lighter, not quite free, not yet, but just a little lighter. His shoulders relax, ever so slightly, as he slides his boots off, leaving them by his cot, which is really more of just a mattress on the floor and a scrap of cloth that can barely be called a blanket. It’s depressing, really, when he looks at it. He never had it great, what with the hard beds Black Mesa provided, but it was sure as hell better than this. And, back then, he still had Gordon with him to make the place a little nicer. Barney tries not to let his thoughts dwell on Gordon. He knows if they do he’ll fall down the rabbit hole, unable to force his thoughts to move anywhere else until he finally falls asleep. Instead he focuses on peeling away the remaining layers of his CP uniform. Right glove, left glove, arm padding, shirt, undershirt, right sock, left sock, leg padding, pants. Everything, until he’s left standing in just his underwear, every piece of that goddamn cage of armor piled up by his cot. He stares at it for a few seconds, feels it glaring back at him, reminding him of everything he’s had to do to keep his cover. Burning the faces of the people he’s had to hurt into his mind. Taunting him, telling him it’s useless, that he should just give in, give up. That it’s not worth it, that things will never get better, they’ll only get worse. Barney forces himself to tear his eyes away. He needs a fucking shower. 

The handle squeaks as he turns it. Water rushes through the rusty pipes, spurting out of the shower head a nasty brown color. Barney waits for it to clear, then a few seconds more for it to heat up. He knows it’s useless. The water here is never warm, barely even feels like it gets above freezing. But it’s almost become a tradition, some small thing to keep him tied to his past. Waiting, just like he did for the water back at Black Mesa. At least there it got somewhat warm. At least then he didn’t have to rush through his showers, feeling his body grow more and more numb each second. Barney steels himself before he steps in, hissing as the icy cold water hits his body. It’s a good distraction from his thoughts, but, damn, he’ll never get used to the feeling. It’s like the Combine makes the water as cold as possible just to hurt them. They probably do, knowing them. 

He goes through his routine, using the shitty soap, if it can even be called that, that the Combine provides. He’s rubbing the bar through his hair, scrubbing the dirt and blood from it, when his mind starts to wander again. Back to how things used to be, back to Black Mesa. Back to Gordon. God, Gordon. Even after all these years, he’s beginning to lose count but he thinks it’s been 18 or 19, maybe even 20, he still misses him. Who wouldn’t, if they’d know Gordon like Barney did? To go from being so close to the man, knowing everything about him and spending all their free time together, to not even knowing whether he was fucking dead or alive, not knowing where he was, was gut-wretching. 

Barney’s thoughts spiral, leading him back to the last times he saw Gordon. He remembers, clear as day, waking up, seeing Gordon sleeping peacefully beside him. He remembers knocking a service door, waiting to be let in. Remembers seeing Gordon pass by him on the tram, waving at him, 20 minutes late despite Barney’s best efforts. He remembers waving back, smiling, not knowing that would be one of the last times he saw his boyfriend’s face. Remembers running through his daily routine, picking up his vest, his helmet, his gun that he never thought he’d use. He remembers catching a glimpse of Gordon on the security cams, wearing that bright orange HEV suit, headed down to the test chamber. Most of all, Barney remembers how he thought it was just another normal day, how he never properly got to say goodbye. How he thought he would get to see Gordon again. Well, he did, but Barney doesn’t think watching the man’s unconscious body be dragged away by a pair of soldiers laughing about how they were going to kill him counts. 

He slams his head against the grimy, yellowing tile of the shower walls, trying to push the image from his mind. The cold water runs down his body, but does little to distract him, does’t stop the downward spiral of his thoughts. Neither do the tears that run down his face. The worst part about all of it is, he never got, and will probably never get, any closure. They never found Gordon’s body. Barney waited every day as they picked through the rubble of Black Mesa, pulling out body after body. But not even after all the months he spent staring at the crumbled walls of that god forsaken place did they even pull out a body wearing that awful orange HEV suit. He doesn’t want Gordon to be dead, he so badly wants to think that Gordon made it out, is still alive out there somewhere. But at least if they had found his body Barney would know.

A fleeting thought catches Barney’s attention. The Vorts. The way they speak of Gordon, like he’s a god. They say he saved them, freed them from Nihilanth’s control. Barney isn’t exactly sure who Nihilanth is, but it doesn’t sound human. Does that mean Gordon went to Xen? Is he stuck there? Barney himself barely got out. And suddenly Barney’s falling down another rabbit holew as he shuts off the water, pulls himself out of the shower, begins to dry himself off with the rough towel he’s been using for years on end. He begins to think of what it would have been like to die on Xen. Because that must be where Gordon’s body is. If they didn’t find it in the rubble of Black Mesa, and he’s not in City 17, then the only other places he can think of are Xen or, god forbid, Nova Prospekt. Barney doesn’t even want to think about Gordon spending his days as a stalker, slaving away for the Combine. But is that worse than what his fate would have been on Xen? Slowly dying of dehydration or starvation, or maybe poison or blood loss, in a hostile alien environment, completely alone except for inhuman beings that want him dead? Barney doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he wants to know.

He lays down against his mattress. The lumpy surface digs into his back. He pulls the dirty, itchy scrap of cloth up to his shoulders. He’s still cold. He stares at the bleak, gray ceiling above him, studying the way the paint peels. Tossing and turning, he can’t get comfortable. Nothing is comfortable anymore, not with the Combine, not without Gordon. _It’s just one of those nights,_ Barney thinks to himself. _Just one of those nights. Just like every night._

The nights are never any different.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading!!! I say this every time but any kudos or comments would be greatly appreciated! And you can find me on tumblr @rrrrrrrex (7 R's)


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